Chapter 182: Live-Fire Training 

After confirming Zhaozhi wasn’t ill, Jian Mo and Wu Jiong didn’t linger in the Baizhi Tribe.

On the day they left, Zhaozhi came to see them off, apologetic. “Sorry to make you come all this way.”

Jian Mo patted his arm. “It’s fine. As long as you’re not sick. Take good care of yourself.”

Zhaozhi gave Jian Mo’s arm a pat in return, a faint smile in his handsome eyes. “I will.”

They set out for home.

The Riverbank Tribe was a long way from Baizhi; even riding wing-beasts, they couldn’t make it in a day.

At dusk, they found a campsite, planning to rest well and head out again the next morning.

They didn’t expect an uninvited guest.

Jian Mo stared in surprise at the man before him. “Chief Qi Ming? What are you doing here?”

Qi Ming said, “I guessed you’d camp here and came ahead to wait.”

Jian Mo glanced back at Wu Jiong—were they really that easy to predict?

Qi Ming seemed to catch his thought and explained, “There’s plenty of wild greens and fruit here, and the game tastes good. You camp here almost every time. I came to try my luck. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d have chased after you anyway.”

Jian Mo nodded. “You’re here about Chief Zhaozhi? If it’s about him, I can’t tell you anything. That’s his privacy. Without his consent, I won’t speak to anyone.”

“I understand,” Qi Ming said. “I wanted to ask how to care for a pregnant sub-beastman—that shouldn’t count as prying, right?”

Jian Mo thought a moment. “It doesn’t.”

Qi Ming smiled. “I’ve set up camp already. Let’s sit and talk.”

Thorough as ever, Qi Ming had tidied the site and prepared lots of food—clearly having counted Chirchirp and Ying’ao’s portions as well.

Chirchirp saw the pile of provisions and happily flapped, inching up to nuzzle Qi Ming. “Chirp!”

Accepting the overture, Qi Ming reached out and gave Chirchirp a few pats, earning himself an affectionate boop.

They sat around the fire. Jian Mo carefully went over how to look after a sub-beastman during pregnancy, especially one with a weaker constitution.

When Qi Ming had listened through, he stood and gave Jian Mo a formal bow. “Thank you.”

Jian Mo hadn’t expected such ceremony and hurried to help him up. “Hey—no need to be so polite.”

Qi Ming smiled. “I should be. I’ll head back now.”

Jian Mo glanced at the sky. Night had fallen fully, and the autumn wind was whistling—a miserable time to be on the road.

“Right now?” he asked. “Why not stay and rest with us till morning?”

“No need,” Qi Ming said. “We see fine in the dark; traveling at night is the same. I’ve matters to attend to—better not delay.”

He said his farewells, shifted into a huge Pallas’s cat, and loped into the forest night.

Watching his lithe form vanish, Jian Mo turned to Wu Jiong. “When he says ‘matters,’ do you think he means he’s hurrying back to look after Chief Zhaozhi?”

“Most likely,” Wu Jiong said, eyes on the distance.

“He’s a decent person,” Jian Mo murmured.

“Otherwise he wouldn’t have won Chief Zhaozhi over,” Wu Jiong said.

With Zhaozhi’s temperament and ability, if they’d slept together, it was almost certainly of his own free will.

“I hope they sort out the practicalities soon,” Jian Mo said. “May lovers become mates.”

Wu Jiong understood that. “Chief Qi Ming should find a way.”

Jian Mo stretched. “We’ll see. There’ll be an outcome sooner or later. I’m beat—let’s see what dishes Chief Qi Ming left us.”

He didn’t intend to meddle. With Zhaozhi not ill, their situation quickly left his mind.

The pressing matter was the Hunting Festival just ahead.

Once back in the tribe, De Jiang found them immediately. “Perfect timing. Folks want to add a new event to the festival, and we’d like your thoughts.”

“What event?” Wu Jiong asked.

“A cubs’ competition,” De Jiang said.

“Wait—cubs are joining this year?” Jian Mo said. “Which tribe proposed it?”

The festival bouts weren’t gentle; most drew blood.

“The Ice River Tribe,” De Jiang said. “We’re in favor too. If the cubs get into real combat earlier, it’ll make later hunting and fighting instruction more effective.”

Jian Mo wasn’t confident judging education here and wavered. “Then…you all discuss it.”

“It’ll be alright,” Wu Jiong said. “We’ll be watching. No irreparable injuries.”

Jian Mo nodded. “Then go ahead.”

Wu Jiong and De Jiang went to consult with the other tribes.

A decision came quickly: let the cubs try the arena this year. If it didn’t work, drop the event next year; if it did, keep it.

Back home, most of Riverbank approved.

Ban Ming had his kid brother by the scruff. “Ban Jiu, how about big bro gives you a special training session?”

The big cat Ban Jiu hooked his claws, thought about it, then popped his brother with a kitty punch. “No! The teachers will teach. Let go!”

Ban Ming leaned back out of range, unruffled. “What teachers teach, everyone learns. I’ll give you some…exclusive techniques.”

Ban Jiu squinted at him. “I suspect you’re just looking for a chance to beat me up.”

Ban Ming cupped his little brother’s face in one large hand, squishing it into a funny shape. “Why would I need a chance? When don’t I have time to pummel you?”

Enraged, Ban Jiu hammered his brother with a flurry of kitty punches, nearly turning his face into a scratch map. Ban Ming laughed and let him go, then bolted.

Conversations like that played out across the tribe—youngsters teasing cubs, mostly without success.

Since the cubs would compete, their teachers met and added extra combat lessons.

Every beastman and sub-beastman had their own fighting insights—more than enough to teach cubs.

That day, it was Mo A’s turn to come down the mountain to teach.

Worried about Ji Xun, Jian Mo asked Mo A first and, after confirming all was well, went to the arena stands to watch the cubs’ combat class.

Mo A shifted into a giant panda and taught some techniques in beast form. As a former wanderer, his fighting skills were excellent.

From the stands, even Jian Mo found his own claws flexing, swiping along with the moves. The cubs down on the sand were even more eager; once the demo finished, everyone was itching to try.

After hooking them, Mo A told them to pair off for sparring—those without partners could join a free-for-all.

In an instant, the arena exploded into a melee of human-form and beast-form cubs, fur flying everywhere.

Especially the twin troublemakers who’d brawled before—the little white bear Ri Can and the little red Zhēng-beast Xing Yan. They grappled and rolled across the ground, two fluffy lumps quivering with each impact—like a white and a red sticky-rice cake tangled together.

Jian Mo smiled from the stands. It was hilarious.

The cubs fought hard but never viciously. Even when someone got hurt, it was only a nick or two.

Mo A patrolled the sidelines, letting them go at it.

After a long spell, he called a truce.

Cubs collapsed all over the sand, panting like bellows—some beast-form cubs with round bellies heaving adorably.

Jian Mo had planned to watch a bit, but ended up staying half the afternoon, from the start to the end of class—like a thrilling circus show.

Others were drawn over to watch too, shouting “advice” down into the ring—almost all terrible ideas.

While Jian Mo was enjoying himself, Wu Jiong came up and sat beside him to watch.

“Mo A’s good with cubs,” Wu Jiong said.

“He is,” Jian Mo replied. “They’re always enthusiastic in his classes. I’ve noticed the cubs from the various tribes are about the same in raw combat strength and technique—none stands out head-and-shoulders.”

Wu Jiong nodded. “At this age, the advantage of a few extra years outweighs technique.”

“Which tribe’s cubs do you think will win the big match then?” Jian Mo asked.

“Hard to tell,” Wu Jiong said. “Depends on their state that day.”

“That makes it exciting,” Jian Mo grinned.

To cheer them on, Jian Mo cooked sweet soup—bean paste from soaked beans and tubers, finished with pack-beast milk and sugar.

The cubs drank until their faces were sticky swirls, and chirped sweetly, “Brother Jian Mo, after this sweet soup we’ll flatten the others!”

Jian Mo’s eyes curved. “I’m counting on you.”

One by one they puffed out their chests. “Don’t worry! We’ll do it!”

He ladled seconds for them. “Eat up.”

He set aside the rest for Chirchirp and Ying’ao.

Chirchirp loved the sugary soup too, puffing out his chest like the cubs and trumpeting at Jian Mo, “Chirp-chirp!”

Jian Mo had no idea what that meant, but he still rubbed the fluffy head with a smile.

With Jian Mo’s pep talk, the Riverbank cubs were indeed on fire in the next combat lesson.

Unfortunately, the other tribes’ cubs weren’t pushovers either. The mass brawls left every face bruised and swollen.

After watching several days, Jian Mo leaned toward Wu Jiong. “Our cubs are good, but I think Jiang Xing’s still the strongest right now. He’s really good at fighting.”

As the Riverbank kids’ ringleader, Jiang Xing—still a sub-beastman—had already gone unbeaten at home, and now had a very high win rate against visitors.

“His fight sense is sharp,” Wu Jiong said. “Mostly he uses his head.”

Jian Mo looked down into the arena.

Jiang Xing, expression grim, was whaling on the others. His hands had shifted into cat claws—whoever came, he slapped down; come in pairs, he smacked a pair—using leverage and redirection to perfection.

“Give him time,” Jian Mo said with a smile. “Once he grows, he’ll be one of our tribe’s leaders.”

“Maybe our next chief will be a sub-beastman,” Wu Jiong said.